


Someone to You

by midmorning_bomb



Series: Soft Peter [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Adult Stiles Stilinski, Cats, M/M, Vernon Boyd & Erica Reyes Live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-26
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:34:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26116528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midmorning_bomb/pseuds/midmorning_bomb
Summary: Scott is still talking, but Peter is struck by how utterlyperfectthe inky cat with a patch of white on its chest and a scowl on its face would be for Derek. The photo is a bit odd, making the feline look almost spectral, but it’s not like veterinary clinic lighting is designed to flatter.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Nice Things, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: Soft Peter [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1836985
Comments: 34
Kudos: 410





	Someone to You

Derek comes over a lot. Peter is long past jealousy, because it’s clear his nephew is there for the rabbit company as much as human. And maybe he’s feeling generous, now that he has Stiles and _has Stiles_ regularly, but he’s been thinking lately that Derek must be lonely. The loft has slowly transformed into walls of bookshelves and Peter has been keeping a sharp eye out for any worrying signs of newspaper hoarding or tiny figurine collecting. Derek is amassing an alarming number of beige cable knit cardigans and no one needs that many sweatpants. He needs to find Derek some companionship more lively than his growing succulent garden.

He finds a surprising ally in Scott McCall.

Given his rousing success with Medusa, Scott is on a crusade to adopt out all the, frankly horrifying, animals abandoned at the vet clinic where he works. Peter is convinced the monstrous black dog Scott somehow pawned off on Parrish is the Barghest, but the thing loves the hellhound and Jordan loves it right back.

Stiles is making a spinach salad for lunch, Medusa softly purring beside him, while Scott natters away about something. Peter typically tunes him out, like a slightly irritating white noise machine. He’s admiring the line of Stiles’ neck as he laughs at something Scott said (?) when he’s snapped out of his reverie.

“—this cat! And he’s a good cat!”

“Wait, cat?” Peter looks over at the photo on Scott’s phone.

“Yeah! Wisp. This is him. He’s really good, he’s just a little growly. And a little bit territorial. He doesn’t really like people, or noises. Or other cats. Or dogs.”

Scott is still talking, but Peter is struck by how utterly _perfect_ the inky cat with a patch of white on its chest and a scowl on its face would be for Derek. The photo is a bit odd, making the feline look almost spectral, but it’s not like veterinary clinic lighting is designed to flatter.

“He’s perfect.” Peter smiles back at Scott, who looks instantly wary.

Stiles rubs a hand along the back of his neck, “Babe, you’re doing that thing where you look like the smiling Grinch gif again.”

Peter waves a hand, “He’s perfect for Derek. My nephew needs someone. Or at least something. And just look how happy Jordan is with,” Peter winces as he says it, “ _Fluffernutter_.”

(When Scott told Jordan the dog’s name, Jordan immediately asked if he could change it. Scott just smirked, “Bro. Trust me.”

He took Jordan and Fluffernutter to the dog park by the waterfront, letting the intimidating, dark hound run happy circles in the grass and wildflowers. Only one pup there brave enough to play with him, a friendly-looking Aussiedoodle called Snickers. After a while, Scott called out to Fluffernutter, and immediately the two men were surrounded by cute dog owners cooing over the name. Jordan left with three numbers of attractive fellow dog parents, set up a ‘play date’ with Snickers’ owner, while Scott nodded sagely.)

Scott puffs up a little at his pet-person finding prowess, while Stiles hums consideringly. “He’ll never go on his own and adopt him. We need to make this maximum sad and pitiful. Just show up at the loft with the cat and tell Derek it was going to be shipped off to the ‘farm’ if no one took him home.”

“Dude! We would never do that! …Unless it was actually a farm. Like a happy farm with chickens and stuff. Not a murder farm.”

Peter closes his eyes and tries to tune Scott back out. “It’s settled. I’ll buy some supplies and wheat-free, organic food while Scott gets the paperwork ready. Then we can take the cat to the loft. Stiles, you’ll need to distract Derek with your rabbit.”

“Yes, my little Medusa, who’s a little bunny seductress? That’s right! You are!” Medusa preens under the praise and Peter is considering therapy because he’s watching this happen and _still_ finds Stiles attractive.

Two days later, Derek is getting ready to head home from Stiles’ place, when Stiles insists on accompanying him with Medusa, claiming he needs something from Derek’s ever-increasing book collection.

They’re not at the loft for ten minutes before Derek hears Scott and Peter at the door, along with a low, echoing growl. Stiles shrugs, but he’s smirking, and Derek just sighs and slides open the door. Peter pushes past him, laden down with… is that a litter box? And Scott hands over a carrier while smiling wide.

Once the carrier is opened, a black cat jumps up onto the coffee table, and stares at Derek with a grumpy scowl on its face. Derek scowls right back at the cat. A minute passes, then another. Slowly, his face softens into a small smile, and the cat hops off the table, walks over, and rubs up against Derek’s legs, leaving little black hairs behind.

“Dude! That’s amazing! He’s such a good cat, but he doesn’t really like anyone yet.” Scott elbows at Peter, who immediately considers their delicate alliance officially over.

Disturbingly, or at least disturbing to Peter, after a tense moment of narrowed-eye staring, Medusa seems to nod at the shadowy cat. Peter is torn between wondering how Medusa manages to stare at… anything, given her blindness, and realizing that it wasn’t the lighting at the clinic that was off. Something isn’t quite right with the cat. At a certain angle, the outline of its fur seems to blur against its surroundings. Looking at it too long makes Peter feel like he’s got something in the corner of his eye.

Derek has softened even further, and without taking his gaze away from the creature, asks Scott what his name is.

“Oh! It’s Wisp.”

A week later Peter despairs ever having an intelligent conversation with either Stiles or Derek again. The two are currently melting into a puddle of delighted murmurs after finding the cat and hare grooming each other.

After snapping a fifth picture, Stiles asks Derek if Wisp will be okay when the pack comes over later that night.

“He should be. He’s gotten along with everyone he’s met so far.”

Peter can’t help gawking at his nephew. The pizza delivery guy who always made Derek uncomfortable with his aggressive come-ons now won’t make eye contact. He stands three feet back from the door, practically fleeing while handing off the food, after a run-in with the feline. His nosy elderly neighbour moved away to “be with family” after an encounter in the hallway. The damned, maybe literally, thing brought a _human bone_ back into the loft as a chew toy.

Derek insisted it was probably just an old chicken bone or an oddly-shaped stick. As though _Peter_ doesn’t know what a metacarpal looks like.

“Okay, man. Just like, remember it took them a long time to warm up to Medusa. Jackson is still kind of weird. My dad says he’s probably just jealous of the attention she gets, but get over it already, you know?”

Derek nods in agreeance, petting Medusa and Wisp while they paw at the not-a-finger-bone.

As soon as Jackson walks into the loft, he knows something is wrong. Really wrong. Skin crawling, demon hare wrong. He freezes in his tracks when he spots it on the sofa, a phantasmal black cat beside Stilinski’s unrabbit.

The rest of the pack filters in, slowly coming to a stop as they spot the new addition to the group. Erica opens her mouth to say something biting about Derek becoming a cat lady, but then she sees the fond, actually happy look on his face. She ends up with a faint, “Cute cat,” that has Derek as close to beaming as she’s ever seen him.

Boyd and Isaac both shrug. They’ve accepted that Medusa is at the top of the food chain, apparently now a spectral cat is, too. At least the pizza guy isn’t a creeper when he delivers the pies this time.

Lydia shares a look of acknowledgment with Wisp that wisely goes uncommented on.

Once a sizeable dent is made in the pizza, they get down to business. Officially it’s just an odd string of deaths at home, but the sheriff is concerned there’s something more to four otherwise-healthy people dying in their sleep. He’s pretty sure heart attacks don’t leave people looking like they had their souls sucked out through their eye sockets.

Stiles suggests it might be a sandman, Lydia puts forth incubus, while Peter’s money is on a baku. Jackson mutters that it might be the nightmare cat. He’s not sure whether the unearthly growling hiss comes from the cat or the rabbit, but he shuts back up.

They call the evening to a close with a few leads to follow up on, but no evidence to share with the sheriff yet.

Two more bodies are reported over the next week, but they’re no closer to figuring out the cause. Derek hasn’t been sleeping well, but having Wisp around helps. They’ve settled into an easy routine: Wisp yowling out bedtime around midnight, herding Derek to his room. After he finishes brushing his teeth, he’ll find Wisp turning around in circles on the pillow beside his before laying down. He knows he’ll awake in the morning to the cat headbutting him for a breakfast of kibbles and bits of chicken breast. No matter what else is happening, he can get all of this right for Wisp.

It feels good to be somebody to someone.

Derek wakes up and everything is wrong. No Wisp around, and the loft is filled with a smoky haze. The sun in shining through the window at the wrong angle and he can still see a too large moon. He looks down at his hand and blinks hard. Six fingers?

He starts gasping for breath, feeling like his very being is getting pulled out through his skin. The pressure builds and builds and he hears something screaming in the background about fools trying to steal what belongs to the king of the cats. The glass of the windows shatters with a blast of heat and he wakes up again, scrambling out of his bed, away from the corpse of the baku that lays bloody across the sheets.

He looks frantically around for Wisp, and finds him sitting on the edge of the bed, licking blood off his claws.

“Are you okay? Please be okay.”

Derek looks the black cat over gently, checking his legs and soft belly, each ear, runs his hand over Wisp’s tail, inhales deeply as he holds him close. Wisp flicks an ear and licks at the scruff along Derek’s jaw.

Derek texts the pack, letting them know Peter was right and that the threat has been dealt with. He’s not sure what happened to the baku, maybe it couldn’t feed properly on a werewolf, Derek must’ve clawed into it while still asleep. He lets Noah know, too, that the string of deaths should be over.

Peter reads the text to Stiles, who is busy taking off Peter’s shirt. In between slow, sucking kisses along Peter’s jaw, down his chest, Stiles asks what he thinks really happened to the baku. Peter considers trying to explain the strange, ghostly qualities of Derek’s cat to Stiles—who seems to still somehow not be aware of Medusa’s rows of razor teeth or flame-filled murky eyes—but it’s really hard to focus when Stiles is biting the inside of Peter’s thigh. Stiles soothes the bite with his tongue, and Peter thinks he’s going to put getting Derek an otherworldly cat as his good deed for the year.

Then Stiles is swallowing him down and he can’t think at all.

**Author's Note:**

> [Someone to You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XeLaiL9tk68).
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/sarahfairwrites) | [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/sarahfairwrites/) if you want to chat/have good demonic pet ideas.


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